


Sexy Slashers: "Janet" Voorhees

by Djinn_n_Tonic



Series: Spooky, Sexy, Halloween 2019! [1]
Category: Bishoujo, Friday the 13th Series (Movies)
Genre: Bishoujo - Freeform, Death, F/F, F/M, Face-Sitting, Genderbending, Halloween, Horror, Loss of Virginity, Outdoor Sex, Rule 63, Sex Toys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-06
Updated: 2019-10-06
Packaged: 2020-11-26 06:01:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20925332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Djinn_n_Tonic/pseuds/Djinn_n_Tonic
Summary: Four sinfully sexy tales of cold blooded hotties. Based on the Bishoujo, Rule 63, versions of famous movie slashers!READER BEWARE! These erotic horror stories contain scenes of non-con, reluctance, violence, and death (often involving sex). They are fun and sexy stories, but they're still horror stories. Enjoy at your own risk.





	Sexy Slashers: "Janet" Voorhees

A dense fog obscured the forest floor. Storm clouds loomed overhead; heavy, black, and pendulous. Their path illuminated only by the light of the full moon; and what light it offered was filtered through the dense foliage overhead. Ominous warnings were persistent and ignored. Adventure waited for the three intrepid adventurers, and they were not ones to ignore its call.

Adventure. It was an adventure they would not soon forget.

Three brave warriors had entered the forest, and they intended for three to leave it. In the front of the pack was Griselda Warmbed, the brave and voluptuous shieldmaiden. To her right was Amber Everhot, the brilliant and voluptuous sorceress. And, at the rear, was Esper Cravelove, the cunning and voluptuous rogue. The three strong and sensual women had come prepared for their quest, but had they come prepared enough?

They would soon find out.

For, in the bushes, there came an alarming sound. The sound of a predator preparing to pounce. Their weapons drawn, the warriors three stood at the ready for whatever foul beast had ransacked the nearby village. They waited. They waited as the sounds grew louder…and louder…and louder! Until, at last, their foe was revealed.

Leaping from the shadows was the powerful and voluptuous Amazonian Queen!

“Oh god dammit,” groaned Griselda.

“Fuck me rotten,” cursed Amber.

“This is some grade A horseshit sifted through a meat grinder,” overly described Esper.

“What?” sheepishly asked the Dungeon Master, knowing exactly ‘what.’

“You can’t keep putting us up against the Amazonian Queen, Scott.” The player to his right, Cameron, slammed his fist against the table, disrupting the placement of the figures. Scott was quick to put them back in their properly assigned places. Being the biggest of the group, Cameron had easily displaced them.

“Yea,” chimed in Eric between sips of a heavily caffeinated and sugary soda. “She’s too powerful.” His eyes, cradled by sleepless bags, barely showed through his curtain of long, black, hair.

Dexter was the third voice left unheard. Unsurprising given his shyness even around friends. Scott asked him if he minded the Queen’s inclusion, and all he could offer was non-committal mumbles. Being confronted forced him to scrunch up his body further, trying to hide away from the fighting.

“Oh, pffft,” Scott scoffed, not believing the game was a democracy. “The Queen is not too powerful. You all just suck at the game.” Confident in his assertion, Scott pushed up on his glasses smugly.

“We don’t suck – you just made her OP!” Cameron argued with a tone that made it clear the only words he wanted to hear out of Scott were ‘you’re right.’

“Yea,” Eric slurped. “Because you’re in love with her,” he teased.

“I’m not in love with her,” Scott blushed. “You’re just a…coward!”

“You’re all cowards.” Her voice added to the conversation from across the room, her tone unflinching.

“Stay out of this, Ashley.” Scott warned the only female in the cabin, lacing her name with venom.

“What are you talking about, Ashley?” Dexter asked. Ashley was the one person who was able to coax out any audible words from the clearly infatuated nerd.

“Don’t engage her, Dex,” Scott exhaustively ordered.

“No, Dex,” Ashley interjected, “I want you to _engage _me.” Her tone was laced with a kind of playful, erotic, teasing that none of the guys knew what to do with. Ashley sat her book down and stood, pushing back her wild, ebony, locks in the process. There were a few inches of Ashley’s body left that were a mystery to them. Her clothes were small and tight, revealing the shape of things when they couldn’t reveal the flesh. Pink tennis shoes that gave way to knee-high tube socks. Her usual skirt was traded in for Daisy Dukes. Her thumbs were all she could fit into the small, tight, pockets as she approached. A white, high school era, P.E. shirt, trimmed from the bottom to just a few inches below her chest, was stretched out over her overly abundant breasts. A vertical cut made from the collar toward the center of the shirt allowed for showy cleavage. The tits’ bouncing and jiggle before coming to rest made it clear she wasn’t wearing a bra. As if the pierced, hard, nipples pressing against her shirt didn’t.

“And you’re all cowards because you’re here, in an abandoned summer camp cabin, after midnight, on Friday the 13th, playing a board game!” Ashley rested an arm on the backing of Scott’s chair, putting her breasts uncomfortably close to his face.

“It’s not a board game, it’s-“ Scott’s umpteenth defense of the game was interrupted by Ashley.

“It’s a tabletop RPG,” Ashley mocked. “I know that, dingus. I’m the one who introduced the game to you, remember? Which I know regret, B-T-W.” Ashley moved to rest her arm on the back of Cameron’s chair, which he didn’t mind at all. Even though he could feel Dexter staring daggers at him. “My point is, you shouldn’t be playing this, you should be doing something _spooky_! Come on, let’s watch a scary movie. I got _Wizard of Gore_,” she playfully offered.

“Ugh,” Scott groaned, “No, Ashley. Those movies are lame.” He didn’t even need to look up from the table to know she was rolling her big copper eyes.

“Fine, then tell some ghost stories or something!” she snarled, white teeth showing behind her plump red lips.

“Ghost stories are _also_ lame,” Scott smugly countered. The twinkle in Ashley’s eye told him he’d fallen right into another one of her traps.

“Not this one. This one is _special_, because it happened…right…here.” Ashley crossed her arms under her breasts, propping them up, enjoying the squirming it was causing in the young men. “It’s the story of Janet Voorhees.”

“Who’s Janet Voorhees?” Cameron asked before Scott could warn him not to play into her well-manicured hands.

“I’m so glad you asked, Cameron.” Ashley’s tussling of his brown hair warmed his cheeks. “Janet Voorhees was a camper here at Camp Crystal Lake, before it was shut down. Janet was very athletic, but there was one thing she couldn’t do: swim. Tragically, Janet fell into the lake and started to drown.”

“Where were the camp counselors?” Dexter asked, engaged.

“Where indeed?” Ashley smirked. “None of the counselors were around to help because they were all too busy, inside…playing games!” Scott rolled his eyes.

“And how exactly is _that_ a ghost story?” Scott asked, his own arms crossing over his chest.

“Because,” Ashley continued, “every time a bunch of virgins come up to this cabin to play games, Janet Voorhees rises from the lake to _claim_ them!” Ashley’s story had her walking the perimeter of the group. At the final word, she pounced on Dexter from behind, softly clamping her hands onto his quivering shoulders. “So, really, the only thing you guys can do to stay safe is lose your virginity.” Ashley’s eyes encircled the group. _No takers_. It didn’t surprise her, though it did disappoint her. It would take a far more aggressive approach for any of them to get laid.

“Welp!” Ashley’s horror story over, her tone brightened. “If you need me, I’ll be in the bedroom with Darius. And I mean it,” Ashley paused, looking over her shoulder as she stood in the bedroom doorway, “if you _need_ me, just knock. Darius won’t mind.” Her smirk and wink punctuated her promise before she closed the door.

They all sat in silence for a moment, and then began to hear Ashley again.

“Oh! Oh, Darius. You’re so…_big_! Such a big hunk of _cock_. Oh, don’t make me wait any longer, just get inside me!” What followed was a string of moans and expletives that stole the group’s attention. It was so pornographic and descriptive that none of them could focus on the game.

“Come on, let’s go outside. I saw a picnic table not too far from here,” Scott planned. The rest of the group seemed content with staying inside, but he insisted. All four had to gorilla-walk out the door until they were clear of the boisterous moans.

\--X--

The gaggle of geeks ventured out into the inky black, guided only by the light of the moon (and their phones). Though most of them traveled in silence, thoughts racing back to Ashley and her story, a mixture of lust and fear for both, Scott did not. Not a step was laid that Scott did not accompany with grumbles and curses.

“Stupid, Ashley, who does she think she is? Why did mom and dad even tell her to come with us? We’re 18 now! We don’t need a babysitter.” He had a lot of complaints, but those were the greatest hits. The others didn’t mind having Ashley around. She was fun, though intimidating, to be around. However, they all could agree that no one was going to get anything done with Ashley moaning up a storm in the other room.

At last the four had reached the picnic table. Though it was hard for them to forget about the cabin and all the fun that was happening inside, they eventually were able to focus on the game. The clatter of dice hitting the table was a welcome sound. At least until the results were read.

“Critical failure!” Scott announced.

“Shit!” Cameron cursed his poor luck. “Let me roll again, Scott!”

“No, way! The die is cast, your fate is sealed. Those are the rules.” Scott mercilessly explained.

“Fuck the rules! Let me roll again. I don’t want to die!”

“No one _wants_ to die, Cameron, but my hands are tied.” Scott shrugged, smirking.

“Hands are- you’re the dungeon master! Make an exception!” Cameron could see Scott wasn’t going to budge. Ticked off, he grabbed the d20 and started shaking it in his closed hand.

“Don’t you dare, Cameron!” Scott warned, as if whatever number he rolled would somehow supersede the last one. Scott was, after all, the dungeon master. “You roll that die and you’ll _really_ be dead!”

Cameron just shook faster, mockingly. All bets were off at that point anyway; Cameron knew Scott wouldn’t honor the roll. However, he could see the rise it was getting out of him and he had to persist. Once Scott’s face turned that unique shade of purple and red, Cameron rolled the die.

_THRAK!_

The sound of a woodsman’s axe slamming into the center of the table, severing the d20 in two. All eyes swung up toward the woodsman. Or rather, the woods _woman_. She towered over them at 6 foot 6 inches. If there was a third height measurement to make, it would also be a 6. The brown of her short-cropped hair almost matched that of her dirty coat, frayed at the sleeves and tail. A black gloved hand gripped the axe, while another black gloved hand gripped an intimidating machete. The way her pants had been cut, or rather torn, made them resemble chaps, exposing her muscular, creamy, inner thighs. A pair of black denim shorts, even shorter than the ones Ashley wore, offered little modesty. Her abs, and they were most definitely abs, led the eyes from her brown belt all the way up to her aquamarine colored top. A top that obscured nothing of her stomach and offered plentiful cleavage from her heavy breasts. However, all the guys could see was her intimidating white hockey mask with blood red marks on the cheeks and forehead, and the heavy breaths that filtered through the mask’s holes.

“A g-g-g-girl!” Eric exclaimed, sending all four nerds into four different directions. They had come face to mask with Crystal Lake’s own Janet Voorhees; and she was on the hunt.

\--X--

Eric cursed himself for this gothic fashion. His black bondage pants were roomy and comfortable, but they were the worst choice of clothing for escaping through the woods. Its many chains and straps constantly snagged on branches. His heavy black boots weren’t doing him any favors, either.

Another snag. Eric tugged but it wouldn’t relent. He stopped in his tracks and turned to free it from the branch. As soon as he was loose, he took off running again. However, he only made it a few steps before running into what felt like a tree. A very soft, but very sturdy, tree.

The goth kid fell backwards from the impact, but he wouldn’t hit the ground. He felt himself get caught by the collar of his _First Jason_ band shirt. Eric’s eyes fell upon the black glove that gripped him. They carried up the arm of his captor: Voorhees. He should have struggled, he knew that. Yet it was hard to look away from the rise and fall of her pendulous, unbra’d, breasts. An attention that Voorhees took note of.

With her machete and a skilled hand, she slipped the blade under her top, between her breasts, and sliced. The top, with its thin and cheap material, fell away easily. Her tits wobbled into sight, widening Eric’s eyes. His eyes went even wider when Voorhees suddenly yanked him back upright, slamming his face against her breast.

Embarrassed, figuring it a mistake, Eric tried to pull away. However, the black gloved hand was quick to cup behind his head and keep him in place. His features pressed into the squishy flesh. He was unable to get a good look at her face from his forced vantage, but everything that had happened seemed to be on her terms. Risking it all, Eric opened his mouth and let his tongue dab against her hardened nipple. Her throaty growl sounded pleased, so he grew bolder.

Eric enjoyed Voorhees’s bountiful offering. Soon, even he was growling with delight, muffled by her fatty tit. He even went so far as to reach up with his hand and grope at her lonesome globe. It felt heavy in his palm, yet it was surprisingly soft. He desired to move his mouth over to the other tit, but she was calling all the shots, and she wouldn’t let him budge from his placement. At least he could safely guess she was enjoying the feel of his hand, mouth, tongue, and teeth on her breasts and nipples; based on her pleasured moans.

He was doing so well that Voorhees pulled him in tighter. No longer was he offered the benefit of a little space to breathe through his nose. Almost his entire face was eclipsed by her proud melon. Eric felt his air run out, and his time run short. He tried to pull back from her, but he couldn’t budge. He tried pushing against her body with his hands, but she didn’t budge. Her strength was undeniable. Her motivations were indiscernible. Her intentions were gravely clear.

Janet Voorhees didn’t release her grip until she felt his screams stop vibrating through her chest. After he went limp, she dropped him. The masked killer with a killer body gave Eric’s asphyxiated corpse only a moment’s consideration. Stepping over the goth’s suffocated remains, she marched steadily toward her next victim.

\--X--

Where Eric had lost ground due to his fashion sense, Cameron lost it due to his fitness – or lack thereof. He wasn’t overweight, at least not exceedingly, but he was unused to strenuous, continuous, movement. Running from a deranged, admittedly hot, killer of urban legend was definitely strenuous and continuous.

“I shouldn’t…have avoided…all those…P.E. classes.” Cameron huffed and panted his regrets while resting his hand on a tree. His legs burned from even the short distance he sprinted. Even standing, braced against a tree, proved too difficult.

Cameron fell ass first onto the dirt with a thud. He expressed the brief pain with a typical ‘ow.’ However, the relief of being off his feet far surpassed the sting in his buttocks. While Eric was a guy who found sleep to be elusive, Cameron gorged himself on it. Even with the threat of violence lurking within every shadow, Cameron found the strength to lay back on the ground.

“I just need…a few minutes…of rest.” His panting slowed as his breath returned. Cameron laid on the dirt and leaves, arms out and legs together. He admired the full moon as he surrendered to the increasing weight of his eye lids.

First, he heard easy footsteps working through the fall leaves. Then he heard the louder, closer, sounds of twigs snapping under a deliberate step. It wasn’t until he heard two, heavy, combat boots coming to rest near either one of his ears that Cameron opened his eyes.

Cameron had fallen asleep to the sight of the full moon. Cameron awoke the sight of a full moon. A fully bare, parted, moon with a dripping sex within licking distance of itself. He was looking up past the pale thighs to the overwhelming ass of Janet Voorhees. Though she’d kept her ‘chaps’ on, she’d at some point removed her shorts. Does it matter when? Or how? What matters is that she chose to replace her shorts with something else: Cameron’s face.

He let out a squeal as Voorhees fell to her knees, pressing them against his arms and pinning them to the dirt. Not that he’d have the strength to upend her anyway. His cry for help was left unfinished as she sat down, ass first, on his face. The taste of her willing pussy filled his unwilling mouth. The scent of her asshole filled his nose as the tip pressed against the hole.

Soon she realized that Cameron wasn’t going to make a move, even with pussy literally in his face. There was little chance she was going to let him lead, regardless of his courage. Voorhees yanked up his head by his hair, grabbing near the roots. His face disappeared further between her cheeks. Her other hand palmed her weighty breast, eagerly hoping to continue the tingle Eric left there.

To his credit, Cameron wanted to do something for her. Grab her thighs, squeeze her cheeks, grope her breasts. Mostly he wanted to throw her off him. However, as her scent and taste overwhelmed him, helping him to forget the crushing weight she placed on his head, he grew more engrossed in her desires. His mouth moved eagerly against her welcoming pussy, lapping up the tangy fluid.

Voorhees appreciated his attempts at getting her off. Unfortunately for him, she enjoyed the vibrations his howls of pain sent against her folds more than any intentional attempt. She gripped his hair harder, pulling up while shoving his face harder between her legs. Several fistfuls of hair tore out during her vigorous guidance.

Soon she began to ride his face. Fervently. Back and forth she grinded against his facial features, smearing her scent and juices on him from forehead to chin. Cameron was in pain, and greatly disoriented, but still had a fighting chance. That was until Voorhees began to bounce.

After every few powerful grinds, she would lift herself up briefly. Just long enough for him to catch his breath. Then she’d come crashing back down. The weight of her tall, muscular, curvy body and the force with which she moved it slammed onto Cameron with uncaring pressure. Over and over she rode and bounced. Rode and bounced. Driving his head deeper into the dirt.

Eventually, the dirt became packed too tight. It would no longer yield, even to Janet Voorhees. With a final effort, Voorhees raised herself up. Cameron looked up at the blood his broken nose left on her creamy thighs and butt. He would have smiled at that if he didn’t know what would come next. She came back down with a decisive movement, sitting on his face, and crushing his skull. Had he lived to hear it, Cameron would have enjoyed knowing that Voorhees let out a shuddering, satisfied, cry into her mask with the final movement.

Janet Voorhees was never full satisfied, however. Not while more virgins lurked near her lake. She didn’t even bother to wipe the dirt, leaves, spit, and blood off her lower half as she set onto her next prey.

\--X--

Eric and Cameron ran until they hit a roadblock. Dexter ran until he found a place to hide. He knew his limitations. He knew he was lost and ill equipped to run for long. So, he did what he did best: shy away from the world and hope it would pass him by.

He was not so lucky.

Dexter hid in the equipment shed, amongst the rusted and forgotten tools. He wasn’t sure when he should leave the shed. Either when someone found him, or when sunlight peeked through the termite infested boards. As he shivered from fear and cold, he heard boots. Heavy boots. He knew Eric wore heavy boots; boots he was sure would slow him down, sadly. He had no idea if his pursuer did, however. All he’d seen of her was the axe and the mask before he ran. As the door to the shed swung up, he saw much more.

Moonlight framed her towering body. The swinging lightbulb she turned on gave Dexter a better vision of her. Janet Voorhees had made no attempts to do something about her torn and bloodied clothing. The shadows cast by her raised ab muscles showed Dexter just how powerful she was. The machete in her grip showed him just how dangerous she was. However, Dexter only had eyes for her more feminine, inviting, features. Such as her breasts, slick with sweat, and her labia, glistening and red.

Dexter, an empathetic individual, sensed a great want in her. Given her state of dress and her scent, Dexter confidently guessed at her desire. Proudly he stood and approached. Though he was often considered the shortest of the group, that was only due to his constant slouching and hiding. In reality, the shy nerd sported a reasonable height – though still he paled in comparison to Janet’s. The fresh 18-year-old approached slowly. Her chest rose and fell with slow, heavy breaths, in tandem with her broad shoulders.

Carefully, and with more courage than he’d ever exhibited in his life, Dexter lifted her mask. She was beautiful. She had the same bags under her sapphire blue eyes as Eric. Her thin brows were knitted for a cautious stare. Her thin lips pursed in stoic silence. He stared up at her as she stared down at him. Dexter figured that it was all a dream, or his last night on earth. Either way, his next move would be the same.

He kissed her.

Tentatively, of course. He’d grown bolder, but he’d not grown into a Casanova. Dexter was always a romantic, but only in his mind. Never having the courage to act on any poetic desires. Now he had. And, to his delight, she kissed back – with more fervor than he’d given her. It was alarming, at first, to have her hand against his back, pinning his frail body against her fit one. Her tits spilled against his shallow chest. He was, without a doubt, ill prepared for what would come next.

But who wouldn’t be?

Voorhees hacked her machete into a nearby tree as she backed the two of them away from the shed. With no concern for her supernaturally immortal body, she let herself fall backward onto the ground. Dexter, through no choice of his own, came with her. Never giving an inch between his body and hers.

The heat of her overwhelmed him. Her hot breath filling his mouth. Her sweaty body writhing beneath him. The high temperature of desire radiating from between her legs. Dexter may have been able to get used to it all, had she given him a chance to. But with her rapidly moving them from one stage to the next, he had no choice but to just go with the flow. A speed Dexter was not accustomed to. But he was starting to like it.

Dexter began to move his hand from her breast, so he could undo his belt, but Voorhees wouldn’t allow it. She pinned his hand back to her tit, pressing it in firmer than he had before. His widespread fingers allowed the flesh to rise between them. She undid his belt for him. And his pants. Rather violently, adding the sound of clothes tearing to the song of swapping spit. She was incredibly strong, and Dexter thought he might be flung away along with his pants. Janet wasn’t going to let him go anywhere, however.

The young man had nothing to be boastful about, but nothing to be ashamed of either. 6 inches sprung from his underwear. The 6’6’’ woman was about to get her third 6. Dexter’s fumbling to aim himself was cute, but she had no interest in cute. Not in that moment. Once he’d managed to accidentally find the hole, Voorhees pressed down on his ass and forced him inside.

He didn’t need any more guidance to know what to do next. In fact, it was as if his hips moved of their own accord. Dexter found himself being pulled from her lips and had his face shoved into the nape of her neck. It was an easier angle for him anyway. And as a bonus, he got to hear her pant and moan into the night. He’d never felt prouder than knowing he was causing her to make those sounds.

For someone of his limited experience, he lasted a surprisingly long time in the vice grip of Janet Voorhees’s insatiable vagina. In truth, he’d practiced holding back; for the event in which he did lose his virginity to that special someone. He always expected that pivotal moment to be special and romantic, so he wanted it to last and to please his future lover as best he could. He never expected that special someone to be a murderous mute, as they fucked on the forest floor.

Dexter felt his balls tense up. He was on the precipice, and though he had no idea how close she was, he knew he had to pull out. He wasn’t ready to sire the offspring of an urban legend, that may or may not just be one of Ashley’s college friends come to spook/sex them. However, Voorhees had no intention of letting him pull out. She was close too, and there was no way she’d take any steps away from that edge.

Feeling him pulling further back than his usual pumps, Voorhees knew he wanted out. Her powerful legs immediately wrapped around his hips and locked him in place. He could make some light humping motions, but it was clear he was limited in movement. That as fine by her. She just needed his cock inside her to get her to the finish line. She bit her lip as she felt him biting her shoulder. Likely in an attempt to free himself as he started to feel the pain of the leg lock. No such luck. She only held him tighter.

When at last Janet Voorhees came, her inner walls clamped on him like a soft, warm, wet vice. The pleasure was somehow grander than the pain he was feeling from her muscular legs. From that pleasure, he too came with her. That last, filling, feeling that surged through Voorhees took her climax up another notch. It also forced her legs to squeeze in a few degrees too tightly.

_SNAP_

At the apex of her orgasm, Voorhees squeezed her legs together so tightly that she bent Dexter in an unnatural direction. She held him like that for the duration of her orgasm, and while she came down. His grip on her tit weakened. The clamp of his jaws on her shoulder relented. His whole body went limp as hers did. The blood from his broken body mixed with their combined sexual fluids in a macabre puddle in the dirt.

Her strength returned; Voorhees let Dexter fall off her as she stood back up. He fucked her well, but her night was not through. Her blue eyes cast a predatory glare toward the cabin. Then, she resumed her march.

\--X--

The four nerds had scattered to the four winds. However, only Scott had actually run toward the cabin for safety. His poor sense of direction led him on a winding journey that should have been a straight shot. Ironic for someone who had designed many dungeon maps for his campaigns. Scrambling aside, Scott did actually make it back to the cabin.

“Ashley! Ashley!” He offered no information to his plight. He just needed her attention, first and foremost. Having arrived back at the cabin, he gained an added sense of security. This, unfortunately, led to him being less aware of his surroundings than he should have been. Before the third ‘Ashley’ was sounded after he recaptured breath, Scott face planted onto the floor. He had tripped on a d20 that had found its way off the table. Just as he was pushing himself up, he felt a strong tug on his ankle.

Peering back over his shoulder in a panic, Scott was met once again with his nightmare made flesh. An overly aggressive, beautiful, naked woman. The murderous glint in her dead eyes and the smell of blood didn’t help soothe him, either.

Janet Voorhees had no interest in the pleading of her fourth victim, unless they were muffled by her breasts or ass. That would have to come later. She had unique plans for the last remaining virgin at the camp. With her slow march she dragged Scott to exit the cabin. When his plaintive crying ceased, she was curious. Voorhees didn’t have a moment to check on him before she heard the reason for his relief.

“Hey! Lurch!” Ashley snapped angrily at Janet’s back. When Voorhees turned around, in her slow, zombie like, manner, Ashley didn’t flinch. Even faced with her appealingly naked form. “That’s my little brother you’re fucking with.”

Though Scott was elated to see his sister come to his rescue, he did wish she was dressed better for the occasion. Or dressed at all. Ashley was standing even more nude than Janet, defiant to the embarrassment her brother was feeling. Even though she had walked out of the shower in front of him many times, it never felt less awkward seeing his busty, wide-hipped, flat-stomached sister in all her naked glory. He chose to put aside all those confusing feelings in lieu of the circumstances.

“Ashley! I think this is Janet Voorhees!” He couldn’t be sure. He never got a name, and Ashley never offered a description. The conclusion he came to was scattered, but accurate. Scott saw his sister eye Janet up and down, and sniff at the air. No doubt she could smell the intense aroma of arousal coming off Janet, even from across the room.

“Is that right?” Ashley stood unwavering before the threat. She was frightened and confused, of course. The real Janet Voorhees or not, she was a brick house of a woman and looked ready to kill or fuck in equal measure. The situation was odd, but it had to be dealt with all the same. And Ashley had just the solution. “I have just the solution,” she confirmed.

Ashley stepped briefly into the bedroom and came back out with the solution.

“Janet, meet Darius.” Darius, as Voorhees could see, was a 13-inch, thick, black, dildo. Ashley held it with both hands. One gripped around the handle leading to the squishy balls, and one cradling the shaft at around the 10th inch. Ashley whapped the sex toy against her open palm menacingly, taunting Voorhees and daring her to make a move.

Voorhees only had eyes for virgins, and Ashley was…experienced, to put it nicely. However, her tired eyes did light up upon seeing a cock, albeit fake, that gave her pause. She stepped over Scott, only coincidentally not stepping on him, as she approached Ashley. With every step she took, Ashley took one step back into the bedroom. She wasn’t retreating, though. Janet could tell. Ashley was just moving them to a new arena.

Scott spent the next couple hours in an awkward silence outside the bedroom. The women had left the door wide open, and neither were shy about expressing their enjoyment. He tried moving to one of the other rooms, but their voices carried throughout. He was too terrified of leaving the cabin, too. He was also, though he refused to admit it, enjoying the sound of their passions. On a few occasions, he even peaked inside.

The first time he did, he saw Voorhees on her back, legs spread wide. Ashley was sitting on her face as she worked the thick dildo in and out of the killer’s cunt with intense, two-handed, effort. “Fuck!” Ashley grunted.

“You’re fucking tight! Do you do Kegels?” When a droplet of femcum whipped its way onto his cheek, Scott retreated.

The next time he peaked, Ashley had Voorhees bent over the bed. She had adapted the versatile dildo into a strap-on. One that required a great deal of back and hip strength to support and move. Ashley thankfully had both. So did Janet, as she would later demonstrate for Ashley. She had to take a step or two back to pull the dildo nearly all the way out, and then drive it all the way back in.

“Shit, I’ve never hilted with Darius. Kudos, bitch,” Ashley complimented while wiping the sweat from her brow. A congratulatory spank to Janet’s firm ass spooked Scott enough to vanish once more.

The last time Scott would find the courage to sneak a peek, he came upon a surprisingly sweet sight. His sister and his nightmare, cuddled together, face to face. They delighted in a relaxing, soothing, kiss. Hands roamed pleasingly along each other. By that point, every inch of one woman had been explored by the other. Their movements weren’t curious, but rather altruistic. The smell of the room was intense, Scott thought, but at least it looked to him like Ashley had tamed the beast.

Then they both moaned loudly and pornographically.

Scott slinked back, but never fully let the image out of his sight. Ashley and Janet shared in a powerful orgasm together. To keep from overstimulating themselves, they pulled themselves apart from one another. Ashley reached down and pulled on a connected wire between the two of them. The wire connected a pair of sky-blue vibrators; humming away. Ashley took the initiative to turn them off.

“See? I told you,” Ashley panted, smirking at a red-faced Voorhees. “The Grady Twins will get you there, no problem. It aint _all_ about size, Shrek.” Ashley gave her a playful punch to the arm, but Janet registered nothing other than her own resolving orgasm. They had soaked the sheets and each other. The smell of their marathon fuck session would linger in the room long after they’d leave.

\--X--

Dawn had broken hours prior to Ashley waking. She and Voorhees had fucked nearly to sunrise, so she earned her rest. Sure, she hadn’t been able to save _all_ the nerds and their virginities, but she did manage to save the one most important to her. Ashley wasn’t sure what to do about Voorhees, though. She’d tamed the beast, perhaps, but she was still a beast. A murderous one at that. Rather than dwell on the future of what-ifs, Ashley decided to just enjoy the sight of Janet Voorhees resting peacefully in the sunlight.

Except Janet Voorhees wasn’t there.

Ashley shot up, knitting her brows in concern. Without even putting a robe on (because she didn’t own one), Ashley quickly made her way into the living room. No Voorhees, and what’s worse: no Scott. The front door was wide open, but that could have just been due to Scott’s carelessness. She checked every other room and found no one but her own shadow.

Her fears were looking more like reality every second.

She looked more angry than frightened, though there could be no doubt she was scared – for Scott. Janet Voorhees had kidnapped her little brother. She had some confidence that he was still alive. If Janet wanted him dead, he’d be dead in the cabin. She wouldn’t have taken him to a second location just to kill him. Some worry eased for Scott, Ashley checked the bedroom to confirm another suspicion.

“Son of a bitch! That towering mass of curves and murder also took Darius _and_ the Grady Twins!” Now she was really mad.

Ashley was confident in doing most things naked but hunting down serial killers wasn’t one of them. Seducing them? Sure. But not hunting. She threw on her blue button-up, tied up to expose her tight tummy, and a pair of brown shorts – cut super high to show as much leg as possible, of course.

Before she set off in her car, Ashley checked the trunk for the bare essentials. She ran her fingers across the remainder of her pristine sex toy collection. What she really needed to make sure she had was her sawed-off shotgun – in case negotiations went south. Ashley hoisted the gun up to check if it was loaded, and to just admire the craftsmanship.

“Groovy.” Ash was ready.


End file.
